His World's End: Aftermath
by Gater101
Summary: [OneShot] In the confusion and the aftermath, they find a momentary reprieve, a sanctuary with one another. [JE].
1. Desperation

**Summary**: 'Here where the world starts spinning round, you hear the angels laughing without a sound'. Everyone needs a sanctuary, but Elizabeth's might not be what she expected. She's desperate to forget her pain, and in her desperation she finds it, the place she can return to if she needs to. [JE.

**Setting**: AWE. Post Will stabbing the heart. Say for the sake of the story Elizabeth went back to the Black Pearl after the island. Also, the stuff about Jack's sanctuary is in my story called "Sanctuary", which I wrote as an offshoot to this but you don't have to read it to get this. "Sanctuary" is just a little bit of background info, if you will. Also, there is an M rated scene cut out and put into chapter two.

**Desperation**

He'd tried so very, very hard to not do this with her ever again. The first – what should have been the _only _– time they'd done this it hadn't turned out so well. In fact, if his memory served him correctly, there had been a lot of screaming and shouting once the effects of the rum and the fear had worn off.

But this time… well, this time _she _was making the moves. He'd protested – meekly, of course – before surrendering but that didn't mean the little guy on his shoulder was any closer to being quiet.

He knew it was wrong and that when the cold light of morning dawned, she'd accuse him of taking advantage of her, of knowing no decency, being immoral.

_But certainly not immortal, eh Jack?_

He shooed the errant thought away and tried to concentrate on what was happening. Her lips were fierce upon his, almost drawing blood. He could feel his cheeks dampen as she pressed her face to his and he pulled back but she hid her head in his bare chest, kissing and licking and teasing. He moaned and closed his eyes holding his breath as she descended lower to the waistband of his pants. He felt her breath hitch and he knew that she had never done anything like this before not even with…

_("Will!" A cold cry broke through his victorious revelry and he looked up and felt his world drop from beneath him.)_

He started at the image in his mind and looked down into Elizabeth's cool features. Her face steely, moulded into a look of feigned passion and he knew he couldn't do what she wanted him to do.

Not like this.

"Lizzie…" he murmured and tucked his fingers into her hair, trying to pull her head away from him, trying to ignore the touch of her fingers on a place where he thought it was impossible that she would even think of touching him again. She continued, relentless as though Jack's grip on her head was nothing more than a gentle pat. He groaned as she flicked her tongue across his hip, her fingers working their way into his undergarments. He almost, _almost _lost it right there and then. "Elizabeth," he commanded and she looked up to him, tears streaming down her face.

She pulled back and sat back on her haunches, staring down at her hands. He quickly redid the buttons she had unfastened and perched beside her. He tried to ignore the sudden rush that coursed through him when his fingers touched hers.

"I want to do this, Jack. I need… I need to do this. I need you to help me forget."

Her words were thick with tears and Jack stared down at her through his thick eyelashes. Her fingers tightened around his as a sob gripped her body. He closed his eyes and dug the fingers of his free hand into his eye.

Tia Dahlma had been right, all those years ago in nights long forgotten in her shack. Another _would _keep his heart and she would be the one to bring him down. Not only had Elizabeth shackled him to his ship but she'd commandeered his heart and made him give up his chance of immortality.

Okay, maybe she hadn't _made _him do it but it was close enough. His heart knew what he had to do because Elizabeth's was asking him to do it. He cringed to himself, knowing how cheesy his thoughts sounded.

"You didn't mind the last time…"

_Last time_… An image arose unbidden and unwanted to his mind that caused him to stumble back.

_("Lizzie love, we both know you want to know what it tastes like…" her breath on his neck sent pleasurable shivers down his neck and he raised his hand to cradle her chin there. "What it __**really **__tastes like, without the burden of death, or guilt looming in the balance."_

"_Jack…" Her lips brushed his clavicle and he hissed at the contact, the walls of Shipwreck Cove whispering to themselves as the wooden floor beneath them rocked slightly with the waves._

"_Tell me…" he murmured as he closed his eyes, his lips grazing her closed eyelids. Her hands slid up his back, into his hair and he arched into her fingers, wherever they went. "Tell me you want this…" He didn't think he could handle it if she said she didn't want this. _

_Her lips sucked the pulse point on his neck and she didn't need to speak. He knew her answer.)_

"Last time… last time wasn't like this."

He glanced down to their entwined fingers and tried to pull away but her grip was firm. He squirmed and tugged again, refusing to meet her eyes. She let him go and curled her legs under her chin. She looked so pale and thin and cold and tired. He shifted uneasily. He didn't know what to do.

"Then what was last time, Jack?"

Her voice had turned as icy as her fingers had been moments before. He flinched at the words and sniffed, trying for indifferent. He sighed and moved to the other side of the cabin, fingers tracing over the maps and sketches on his table. His thoughts wandered. Last time… Last time he'd done it just to prove to himself that he could, to prove to her that no matter what she thought he still had the upper hand: that he was Captain Jack Sparrow.

He turned to her, eyes sullen and unreadable.

"You know what last time was," he replied once their eyes collided and he gulped down hard.

He wouldn't admit that he'd also _wanted _it.

He saw a smirk slice across her face momentarily before she turned her head away. Curiously though, she didn't get up to leave.

Silence descended in the room like a heavy sail, stifling them, muffling their breaths and dimming their thoughts, panicking them. He wanted to speak – hated silences - but his voice chords wouldn't work. He closed his eyes, blocking off yet another sense.

"I'm tired of being sorry."

Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. He had to quell the urge to voice "what?". Instead he settled for silence and quirked an eyebrow. He stared at the top of her head, watched as her shoulders rose up and down in uneven heaves. He didn't move. When her eyes rose to his, they were swimming with tears. He licked his lips and tried to look away but her eyes followed him.

He flicked his eyes back to her gaze and pursed his lips, fingers fiddling with a small bead on his belt.

"I'm tired of a lot of things, darlin'," he muttered with a small, insincere smile.

"I'm tired of hurting, I'm tired of you hurting me." He raised his eyebrows at that. "I'm tired of people leaving me."

He didn't respond to that. He had nothing to say. He'd had years of people leaving him, of dying on him. He was sincerely used to it by now.

Silence descended again and Jack moved about again, looking at the four walls of his cabin with renewed interest. He didn't know why he didn't just leave. Or ask her to leave. It would be so much easier that way.

"Even Will…"

Jack's breath hitched at the mention of the boy's name. He didn't want to admit that it hurt. Hurt more than the fact that Jack had given up his chance of immortality.

_("I'll have a heartless man to take care of…")_

If only he'd known what the sea witch had meant, maybe not even then but when she'd shown an interest in Will when they'd arrived at her shack. He could have tried to stop it from happening. He felt a shrill shiver course down his spine when he thought of who the sea witch really was. He'd spent many a night in her home and in her bed.

What really made his stomach roll, though, was the fact that she'd done those… _things _with ol' fish face.

"Ten years isn't such a long time, really."

He flinched visibly when her eyes snapped to his and her jaw set. He held up his hands in surrender and rolled his eyes to the side away from her piercing gaze.

"What do you mean?"

He stared at her quizzically for a moment, searching her face. She really didn't know the true story of the _Flying Dutchman_. He flicked his wrist in a dismissive manner, not wanting to give her false hope because the 'truth' could only be a rumour. Calypso was not _that _forgiving to her charges.

"So what did dear old William say when he discovered your lack of innocence?"

Elizabeth gawked at him and scoffed low in the back of her throat.

"I told him it happened when I was riding while I was younger," she whispered eventually after her cheeks flared red with embarrassment.

Jack stared at her sceptically and shook his head from side to side trying to understand what exactly went through the whelp's mind sometimes.

"And he actually _bought _that?"

"He had no reason not to!" she spat and Jack had to side step to avoid the shoe she threw in his direction. "Those kind of things happen and… and he trusted me." She breathed deeply and looked down at her hands, her crisp composure slipping ever so slightly. "God, Jack…" her voice was laden with heavy tears and Jack took a hesitant step forward. "He trusted me and… and I betrayed him!" Hot tears flowed down her cheeks and she swiped at them furiously.

He kneeled in front of her and for a moment actually debated wrapping his arms around her. Instead, he gripped her chin in his hand and forced her eyes to meet his. He waited until she stopped struggling against him before lowering his voice;

"All the more reason not to repeat the action, eh?" He hadn't meant for his voice to be so soft, or hold quite so much pain of his own. He felt her tears on his fingers, dripping from her chin into his cupped palm. "Elizabeth, you will only regret it. Now as much as I would love to do what you want me to do… I don't want a repeat of last time." He quirked a crooked smile at her but he knew that his eyes were giving him away.

She took another breath but her composure didn't return. He didn't let go of her chin as she turned her eyes down, or as her nose started to run, or as his hand was soaked with tears. Instead he joined it with his other hand, slid both of them into her hair and stroked her temples with his thumb.

He couldn't remember ever being this sensitive in his life.

Her sobs echoed in his chest, cracking the walls and opening up a hollow place inside of him where he'd carved out his heart – not literally – and stored it someplace safe.

_("But she not only keep yours.")_

He pulled his hands away from her face abruptly and she looked up at him questioningly, alarmed. He shook his head and stood up, pivoting on his heel and striding back from her a few steps.

"I think… I think you should leave. Or I should…" he looked confused by his own words, panicked even to his own ears and he bustled about the room collecting her discarded shoe, his hat, her jacket, his shirt. He returned to her his arms laden with items belonging to both of them.

"I don't want to leave," she murmured, her eyes and voice full of hurt. Didn't she realise what was happening to him? He was unravelling before her and he didn't want that. He wanted to wrap himself back up and tend to his wounds in his own way and he couldn't do that when he was tending to hers.

"Fine, I'll leave!"

He pivoted again and strode towards the cabin door, discarding his gathered items on a tall backed chair, only pausing to pull his shirt over his head. He had opened the door and stepped out without hearing any of her protests. He didn't need to hear them because he felt them. Felt his own body protesting to his leaving. Cold air hit him as he stepped into the night. He stopped moving when he heard the door swing closed behind him. He closed his eyes and bit his suddenly quivering lip. His breathing was ragged, sounding loud in the quiet of the decks. The only figure he could see when he opened his again was that of Cotton at the helm. He sighed and closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply. Leaning his back on the wooden door he slid down it and clasped his head in his hands.

His world felt like it was slipping out from underneath him. Walls he'd constructed years ago were crumbling in her presence. Thoughts of Will's 'death' assaulted him and he felt the heavy burden of guilt. He'd stood over the heart for too long, wondering whether he was making the right choice and if he'd just stabbed the damn thing, he'd be immortal, Will would be alive and everyone would live happily ever after.

There was a reason he'd created the myth of Jack Sparrow and that reason was because the _real _Jack Sparrow was a coward, a fool hardy coward who never knew what he wanted.

But the problem this time was that he _did _know what he wanted. His loins wanted release and they wouldn't be satisfied until they released inside of her. He didn't even know _why_. He tilted his head back and stared up at the starless sky. Clouds covered his favourite view and he glared at them. The sky was his sanctuary these days and when he needed it most it was gone. He didn't even have any bloody rum.

He closed his eyes and sighed, letting images from the day play across the blank canvas of his eyelids.

"Cap'n?"

He opened his eyes groggily and noticed that the moon was splicing down through parted clouds and lighting the masts of his beloved _Pearl. _He turned his sleepy gaze to Gibbs who stood above him with a concerned expression on his face. Jack looked around him and noticed that he was sitting in the same position against the Great Cabin door and he licked his lips. He must have fallen asleep.

"I think your bed be a bit more comfortable, eh Cap'n?"

Jack nodded in acquiesce and lifted himself from the deck. He groaned as his back creaked in protest before popping loudly as he stretched.

"Will Miss Elizabeth be…?" Jack pinned him with a steely glare and Gibbs nodded. "I see." He nodded again and wandered off.

Jack opened the door silently and looked around the room for Elizabeth. The candles had been extinguished and the cabin was black as the night sea except for a thin slice of silver that slid across the floor. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness before looking around. He spotted Elizabeth sitting up on the chair he'd dumped the collected garments in.

"Elizabeth?" He saw her jump and turn quickly towards him.

"You scared me," she whispered with a husky voice. He shivered.

"Sorry."

"It's all right."

He didn't know why they were whispering but he realised that he kind of liked it. The air in the room was heavy and still, quiet and tranquil. He didn't want to disturb it.

"Have you slept?"

"Have you?"

He nodded even though she wouldn't be able to see him. He moved closer to the chair and leaned against the table beside her. She didn't turn to him but continued to stare into nothingness. He wasn't even sure she knew he was there. He began to scan the room and could make out shapes in the far corners. He was glad. He didn't particularly like the dark.

"I'm sorry." He looked down when he felt her hand cover his. The gesture was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. He turned his hand and entwined his fingers with hers. He saw no sign of surprise or disgust on her features and took that as a good sign. "I don't know why I can't leave."

Jack frowned. He didn't entirely understand what she meant.

No. He didn't understand what she meant _at all. _

"You can leave whenever you want," he replied, trying to push as much confusion into his voice as he could. "No one's stopping you."

She turned her head to him for a moment, the movement slow. He stared into her eyes and noticed they were bloodshot, almost like an April sunset, red and sore. She licked her lips before shaking her head evanescently. Jack watched her, feeling his chest hollow out once again and he felt the emptiness swarming off her in waves so very suddenly that it almost knocked him over.

"I think I am."

Jack frowned again. She was making absolutely no sense to him, whatsoever

"You're stopping yourself from leaving?" Her nod was barely discernable in the dim light. "Why?"

"I don't know."

He didn't say anything in reply to that. He squeezed her hand tighter and felt her return the pressure. He could see her eyes glass over and he felt something stir in his gut.

The moonlight disappeared and Jack followed the darkness as it ate the stream up. The room was infinitely darker than it had been seconds before. He rolled his neck and felt a few bones crack.

"I don't know what it is about being in here. I feel so… I feel safe, like nothing else can get to me here." She let out an airy laugh. "It sounds so silly."

He smiled down at her even though she was looking away from him.

"It's not." She turned to him and a soft smiled played around her lips. He returned it. "Go on."

She swallowed and Jack saw his fingers moving up to stroke the side of her face. She turned to him with pleasant surprise in her eyes. He glanced away.

"I feel like I'm part of… this." She moved her hand around her head and Jack frowned. "I don't know. I feel like… I could come back here… when I needed to."

Jack nodded in understanding. He'd had a place like that, once. It was his sanctuary. The place he always returned to for reassurance, to forget. In those days, travelling up river was nothing to be afraid of.

"I don't know what it is. Whether it's just the atmosphere, or because it's the _Pearl_…" she trailed off, her eyes falling to their entwined fingers. He followed her gaze and marvelled at the difference of their hands. Hers were slender and the colour of milky tea; his were rough and big and _brown_. "Or you." He looked up to her eyes then and held her stare for a moment before he smiled ever so slightly.

He saw her shift and grimace slightly, her free hand touching a graze on her hip. He looked down at her fingers and thought how it would feel to replace hers with his. He bit the thought back and clenched his fist.

"I have something for that," he murmured as he stood up form his perch. Her hand gripped his tighter.

"No. It's fine."

He eyed her suspiciously, warily and then nodded. The movement disturbed his head and it began to throb, a dull ache emanating from his base of his skull.

"I'll light a candle," he whispered. He saw her shake her head. "Just one, my head hurts." She nodded and he smiled, slowly disentangling his fingers from hers. She seemed to not want to let him go.

He wandered over to his bedside table and picked up a taper and lit it with a match. The room was glowing amber when he stepped back and he remembered another room glowing with candlelight, sounding of nature, smelling of magic. He opened a drawer and pulled out an ointment Tia had given him for open wounds and walked back to Elizabeth. He didn't say anything as he kneeled beside her and lifted the edge of her shirt. She didn't protest as his fingers rubbed the ointment in. She didn't flinch at the sting he knew the ointment caused. Long after the cream was rubbed in, he kept rubbing his fingers in circular motions across her hip.

He didn't want to stop.

"Jack?" He turned his eyes up to her at her quiet words. He saw her look away uncertainly, unsure. He stilled his hand and laid it flat against her side. It covered most of her waist. When she turned back to him, her eyes were alight with an amber liquid, her lip trembling between her teeth. "I feel like I'm falling apart," she managed through in a strangled whisper. He kept his eyes on hers for long moments.

Then he did something unexpected. He nodded, lowered his eyes and murmured,

"I know… me too."

He wrapped his other arm around her and buried his chest in her stomach. He felt her head rest against his, heard her sniffs turn to sobs and felt tracks of water trace his cheeks.

He felt relief wash through him, flow through his veins and he gripped her tighter.

Last time… last time they'd been afraid they wouldn't make it the next day, that the sea would claim them. He hadn't wanted to die again without feeling her.

He'd been tense, wound tightly, thoughtful, calculating all day and now he was exhausted. He'd killed many men, lost the one thing he'd chased after for more than a decade, fought the devil himself.

She'd lost the love of her life.

They gripped at each other desperately, clawing at one another's backs, grasping for something to hold onto that was real and tangible and _there. _

They found each others lips and neither protested, nor fought against it. No warning men came to Jack's shoulder, no cries of betrayal or guilt came from her throat. He reached his hand up to her neck, traced the delicate bones with his ragged, fumbling fingers. Tongues danced together, bodies melted into one another.

He didn't want to let her go.

He pulled back only long enough to pull her shirt over her head and allow her to remove his. His hands roamed her body, caressing, stroking, loving. His lips left hers, eliciting a whimper and he smiled ever so gently against her throat as she arched her neck for him. He moved her legs around him and stood up, holding onto her as he moved them to the bunk. He laid her down gently and stepped back to observe her. She had her eyes closed, her lips parted, her neck still arched. Candle light flickered across her body, highlighting the darkness of her nipples, casting half her body in shadow.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He covered her body with his and kissed her, slowly, tenderly. Her hand slid into his hair and her legs wrapped around his body. He groaned as he felt her heat through her trousers and his. He broke the kiss and slid down her body, kissing and licking and loving every inch of her body. He stroked her waistband with teasing fingers, his eyes glancing up to watch her reaction. He lowered them and placed a feather-light kiss on her grazed hip.

"Jack…please…" She pleaded and stared into his eyes. How he wanted please her.

He conceded.

Afterwards, she kept her eyes closed, wouldn't look at him. He didn't mind, not really.

He rolled over and sat up at the edge of the bunk. He dropped his head into his hand, refrained from groaning at how bad a mistake that had been.

For the love of rum, he'd cried in front of her.

His gut didn't roll like he'd expected it to. He pressed his fingers into his eyes because, ridiculously, inconceivably, he wanted to cry again. He breathed deeply, tried to swallow the lump.

So much for sanctuary.

"Jack?" He tilted his head but didn't turn to her. "Hold me."

He did turn then. He watched her with a blank expression on his face, watched as her eyes travelled over the tattoos on his back, the scars of the exit wounds of bullets, scars of knives. He nodded and she moved to make room for him.

As he lay down behind her and slid an arm under her neck and another around her torso, he realised that he didn't think he'd be able to let her go.

He realised, as he kissed her shoulder, that his whole life had been leading up to this moment. Every thing he had ever done was for this, this absolutely bittersweet penance, this sweet torture.

To realise that he was in love with her, the keeper of his heart. He sighed into her neck and closed his eyes as dawn tinted the small cabin window, the clouds dissipating to reveal the last of the receding darkness, the fading stars.

She'd be gone when he woke up, he knew. Or he would be gone. This wouldn't last, this peace for him. It never did.

He could almost hear the angels laughing as he clung to her in a desperate hope that she wouldn't be gone.

Sleep overcame him then, dreamless and dark and beautiful.

Their sanctuary.

_Here where the world starts spinning round  
take a ride and you'll feel what you've never found  
Here when the stars start fading out  
you hear the angels laughing without a sound…  
[Five for fighting - The Beautiful_


	2. deleted scene'

**_THIS IS THE M RATED SCENE THAT I CUT OUT OF THE FIRST CHAPTER. It's not explicit but if you're easily offended... don't read!_**

They found each others lips and neither protested, nor fought against it. No warning men came to Jack's shoulder, no cries of betrayal or guilt came from her throat. He reached his hand up to her neck, traced the delicate bones with his ragged, fumbling fingers. Tongues danced together, bodies melted into one another.

He didn't want to let her go.

He pulled back only long enough to pull her shirt over her head and allow her to remove his. His hands roamed her body, caressing, stroking, loving. His lips left hers, eliciting a whimper and he smiled ever so gently against her throat as she arched her neck for him. He moved her legs around him and stood up, holding onto her as he moved them to the bunk. He laid her down gently and stepped back to observe her. She had her eyes closed, her lips parted, her neck still arched. Candle light flickered across her body, highlighting the darkness of her nipples, casting half her body in shadow.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He covered her body with his and kissed her, slowly, tenderly. Her hand slid into his hair and her legs wrapped around his body. He groaned as he felt her heat through her trousers and his. He broke the kiss and slid down her body, kissing and licking and loving every inch of her body. He stroked her waistband with teasing fingers, his eyes glancing up to watch her reaction. He lowered them and placed a feather-light kiss on her grazed hip.

"Jack…please…" She pleaded and stared into his eyes. How he wanted please her.

He conceded. He slowly, tantalisingly slid her trousers down her slender legs, drawing his lips down with him. He kissed each bare ankle, her knees, the top of her thighs. He had never wanted someone as much as he wanted her right at that moment. He stood, looked at her once again and sighed, closing his eyes, committing her image to his memory because he knew there was a high chance this would never happen again. He reached down to his pants and undid them, letting them slide to the floor followed by his briefs.

She opened her eyes and stared at him, drawing him in. He knew in that instant that she wasn't thinking about Will, or anyone else, only him. She wanted him. She _needed _him.

And that was okay by him.

He slid over her again, into her and they both moaned. Her lips found his chin and nipped there. He groaned and began moving, using his hands to guide her hips. She caught his rhythm quickly and moved with him without aide. She chanted his name, words of want, need but never love. This wasn't about love. This was about forgetting; about needing sanctuary.

They both needed it, more so than they would ever admit. He'd searched for years for another sanctuary and now it seemed he'd found it. Thoughts fled from his mind as she tightened around him, moaning, clutching at his back. He bent his head, sucked a nipple, kneaded her breast.

He dropped his head into her neck and sucked on the skin there, groaning and writhing as she climaxed, pulling him with her. A rainbow exploded behind his eyes that could only be ecstasy induced. They both panted for long minutes, neither moved.

He turned his face into her neck and sighed. He pulled out of her eventually, gasping at the sensitivity, smiling when she did too.


End file.
